


In the Dark, on the Way Out

by yashkonu



Series: The Tiny, Unsinkable, S.S. Catburg [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yashkonu/pseuds/yashkonu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the lights are out, it’s hard to tell which doors are open, and which ones are closed. (Blake/Emerald one-shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark, on the Way Out

The brain has a sort of progression, when it tries to orient itself after a sudden shock. First comes vision, being the swiftest means of identifying imminent danger.

Nothing. Just darkness, absolute and unyielding.

Next come sound and smell, for discerning those threats which might escape the eyes.

Hitched, labored breathing, from two sources. Herself and someone else, somewhere out there in the dark. Scent brought a cacophony; concrete dust and ashes, gunpowder and blood. _Blood_.

Finally, having ascertained the state of the immediate surroundings, the brain turns to self-examination and _theeeeeere was the pain_.

It was almost poetic, if pain could be described as such. Her entire frame thrummed with a steady, bone-deep ache, like a blow to a fresh bruise. A full-body bruise. The aching paled in comparison to the agony lancing through her abdomen, though. She gingerly lifted an arm (her left arm; the right didn't seem to be responding) and ghosted her fingertips across her stomach, trying to assess the dama- oh. There was a sword in her gut. She groaned. Of _course_ there was a sword in her gut.

An unsettlingly wet chuckle from a few feet away, followed by a fit of pained coughing. "So not just me, then."

Speaking was an effort, even after a few painful swallows and coughs to clear the concrete dust from her throat. "Do you mean the-" cough, hack, nearly pass out from the blade shifting, "the fractures or the puncture wounds?"

"I was going to say 'alive,' but those too, I suppose." an unsteady sigh from the darkness. "Emerald, right?" Emerald nodded. "Was that a nod or a shake? Low-light vision doesn't mean no-light vision."

"Nod. Blake Belladonna, right?"

"Like you don't know. You three have been after us for months." It was true. After her plans for the breach in Vale were disrupted, Cinder had been livid. Since then, she had spared no effort in hunting down the team of trainees responsible.

"True enough. Cinder wants you four dead something _fierce_. Not my style, really." A long silence followed, long enough to make Emerald wonder if her stab-wound buddy had succumbed.

"Why are you doing this?" If she had a lien…

"Money, power, fun? Why else? Certainly not the peaceful lifestyle and _charming_ companionship."

"You're not _getting_ any of that, though. You've spent the better part of a year hunting a team of trainees, and so far all you've got out of it is grievous injury." A fair point. "So why?" Emerald considered her situation before replying. The way she saw it, there were three possible outcomes. One: no one finds them, she and Blake both bleed out in the dark. Two: Team RWBY finds them, Blake gets whisked off to safety, Emerald bleeds out in the dark. Three: Cinder and Mercury find them, Emerald gets whisked off to safety, Blake bleeds out in the dark. Whichever it might be, there was no point in deception.

"It really was just that simple, at first."

"At first?"

"At first. Now… running away from Cinder would just put me in the ground. She doesn't _do_ forgiveness. I don't expect you to get it."

A single, sharp, laugh followed, though any further chuckling was chased away by a sudden agonized gasp and a muttered string of curses. When her breathing had steadied somewhat, Blake shook her head. "Guess I overestimated how much you know about me. I'm ex-White Fang; I know _exactly_ what you mean." Dense silence settled between them, the absence of words holding meaning of its own. Idly, Emerald wondered which of them would be the first to lose the battle with blood loss. Then a shrill chirp broke the air, and a light – dim, really, but blinding in its contrast from the implacable dark – lit the room, or hallway, as it turned out to be. Blake started at the sudden sound, then reached for the source of the light. Her scroll, lying just within arm's reach. They built those things _damn_ tough.

"…ake? Blake are y…" Through heavy bursts of static and signal loss, they could just make out Ruby's panicked voice.

"I hear you, Ruby."

"Oh tha… " More static. "…alright? There was that explo… ost sight of you an… at's your location?"

"I-" a fit of wet coughing interrupted her. Wetter than earlier, Emerald noted. In the dim light of the scroll, Blake looked like shit. Every inch of exposed skin was bruised, burned, abraded, or some combination of the three, and Emerald's twin blades protruded from her shoulder and side. "Don't know. Some hallway. You'll have to get the location from my scroll." A long pause. "…ot it. We're en route, ETA 5 mi… ang in there, Blake."

Ruby's voice cut out, and the silence returned. In the dim light, Blake was watching Emerald with searching eyes, looking for… something. She wasn't sure what.

Emerald laughed mirthlessly. "I guess you're the one who walks away from this. Can't win 'em all." Team RWBY would arrive soon, Blake would reclaim Gambol Shroud from where it was lodged in Emerald’s hide, and she would bleed out, alone, in some ruined building. Maybe if she was lucky, they'd kill her quickly, rather than leave her to suffer. One way or another, that was that. So much for fame and for-

"Come with us." Ah, and now she was hearing things. Her hallucinations had a cruel sense of humor.

"I'm sorry, what?" Blake's expression was earnest and resolute.

"I said, come with us. It's better than dying, and I'd wager it's better than staying with Cinder."

That mirthless laugh again. "Let's say I believe you, alright? If I show my face to the authorities, I’m in a cell until she finds me and finishes me off. Not much better than bleeding out, Blake." Blake shook her head.

"We can talk to Ozpin. I don't know how or why, but the man has an _astounding_ number of strings ready for pulling. Knowing his sense of irony, he'd place you in the 'protective custody' of our team."

Dust, she was telling the truth. It could really happen. Emerald had hardly entertained the _thought_ of escaping Cinder, and now here she was, faced with a chance at the perfect getaway. It couldn’t be that easy.

"She'd just find me again, Blake. No matter where I went, she'd hunt me down and…" visions of turncoats and incompetents ablaze, screaming until their lungs turned to ash. "There's… no running from her."

"Just like there's no running from the White Fang? She's already after us, Emerald. I can tell you want out." _I've been there, I've walked in your shoes, and I survived, and so can you_. Unspoken, but heard as clearly as if it had been. "Come with us."

"…ver here, guys!" Ruby's voice, faint but growing clearer. Emerald swallowed hard past the blood and rising bile.

"I… I'll do it." _I’ll trust you_. She couldn't say the words, wasn't sure she knew how to anymore, but she meant them. Blake smiled, and the sight would have brought a redness to Emerald's cheeks if it hadn't been busy pooling on the floor around her.

Then the wall exploded, flooding the hall with blinding sunlight. "Blake?" Yang's voice. Team RWBY stepped through the wreckage. " _Dust_ Blake! Ruby, call for a medical airship, Blake's in bad shape!" Yang rushed to her side, appraising the wounds.

"Make sure they-" that awful cough again, and now Emerald could see the blood that accompanied it, staining Blake's mouth and running down her neck.

"Dammit Blake, you shouldn't be trying to-"

"Make sure they bring enough for two, Yang.

* * *

Through the droning of the airship and the haze of anesthetic, both conspiring to pull her down to blissful unconsciousness, Emerald felt a foreign warmth on her hand. Slender, calloused fingers interlocking with hers as the world dropped away beneath them. Maybe, this time, she would be okay.

Maybe, just maybe, she would be better.


End file.
